


blood drips in newsies square

by lettersfromtherefuge



Category: Blood Drips on Newsies Square (1991), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, Newsies - Freeform, crutchiemorris, jackkelly, newsiesmusical, racehiggins, racetrackhiggins, spotconlon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-24 23:12:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromtherefuge/pseuds/lettersfromtherefuge
Summary: It started with the murder of a Brooklyn newsies.Then a Manhattan newsie.Now no newsie is safe. Each night another dies, and it seems like there is no end.





	1. -chapter one-

**Author's Note:**

> these chapters will probably be pretty short seeing as its a fairly short story :)

The sun was setting in Manhattan, casting dark, lanky shadows over the cobblestone paths. The last of the newsies scurried through alleyways and from behind trash cans and made their way towards Newsies Square, and more specifically the Lodging House next to it, where the Newsies slept and lived. Darkness settled as cold breezes blew throughout the city streets. Winter was coming, and nobody could deny it. Inside the lodging house, illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, Jack Kelly, leader of the Manhattan newsies sat on a chair, surrounded by younger newsies as he recounted his narrow escape from the Delancey brothers. Shadows danced across young faces as mouths dangled open, eyes wide in pure awe.  
“And that, my friends, is how to escape the grips of the evil Delanceys,” Jack concluded, ruffling the hair of the newsies closest to him.  
“More! More!” The boys sang out, until Jack waved his hands.  
“Nah, nah, time for bed. Let’s go, we’se gotta get up early tomorrow to sell!” Jack ushered the boys to the shared bedroom, six bunks lined against the walls. All but one was full. Tucking the last boy into bed, Jack drew the thin curtains and shut the door, running a hand through his black hair and turning into the older boys’ bedroom. Race, Mush, and Blink sat on the floor, playing cards. Race furrowed his brow and took the unlit cigar from his lips as he lost another round. Romeo sat in his bunk, leaning against the wall and humming faintly. Jack smiled softly as he spotted Crutchie in the corner, Specs sitting next to him. The way Crutchie was pointing and guiding Specs’ hand, Jack assumed Crutchie was continuing his writing lessons with Specs.   
“Hey,” Jack smiled, sitting next to Crutchie and tenderly wrapping his arm around the younger boy’s waist. Smiling, Crutchie looked up and kissed Jack’s jaw, then turned back to Specs.  
“Just curve your Cs more, then you’ll be good.” Crutchie instructed, and Specs nodding, retracing his C.   
“Perfect!” Crutchie explained, and Jack chuckled as Specs beamed.  
“Aight boys, we’se gotta sleep! We’se get up early in the morning,” Jack called, and the boys all scrambled to their beds.  
“Mush! You have ya own bed, get outta Blink’s!” Albert whined as the bunk above him sagged with the weight of two boys.  
“Blinkyyyyy, don’t make me leave!” Mush whined, and Jack watched with an amused grin as Blink kissed Mush on the cheek before pushing him out of the bunk. Feeling a tug on his sleeve, Jack turned to see Crutchie smiling up at him.  
“Penthouse?” He asked, and Jack nodded, offering his hand to Crutchie to help him up. With a shake of his head Crutchie dismissed the offered hand and Jack nodded, tucking it back into his pocket. The two made their way to the window in the bedroom and climbed out onto the fire escape, climbing the two extra flights of steel stairs, eventually making it to the large concrete   
rooftop. A structure was set up on the far side, a tarp strung between four metal poles meant for hanging laundry. The tarp created a roof, which housed two mattresses pushed together, a few pillows and blankets resting on top. A metal canister with rolled up parchments was on one side of the bed, a small box containing charcoal beside it. The set up was cozy, and Jack loved it. He flashed Crutchie a smile, taking the hand that wasn’t holding the crutch, and led him to the mattresses. Sitting down, Jack arranged himself comfortably and held out his arms, and Crutchie gently laid his crutch down, snuggling against Jack. Situating the blankets around them, the two sighed contently and drifted off into a peaceful sleep, the stars glistening above them.


	2. -chapter two-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones a little longer so yay

The boys rowdily made their way to Newsies Square, hooting and hollering, joking and teasing each other. The boys crowded around each other as Morris Delancey put the headline up, the chalk barely legible due to the messy handwriting. “Crutch, what’s it say?” The boys mumbled, turning back to the teenager with sandy blonde hair and bright green eyes. Due to Crutchie’s older brother teaching him to read behind their abusive father’s back, Crutchie knew the most about reading and writing and was constantly trying to teach other newsies as well. “Uh…” Crutchie hobbled forward, Jack close behind. Squinting, Crutchie tilted his head and grinned. The grin quickly faded when Crutchie deciphered the headline. “What’s it say?” Race asked softly, very uncharacteristically. “‘Newsie Slaughtered in Alleyway’.” Crutchie mumbled softly, eyes downward. A ball of anxiety formed in his stomach, tugging at his insides. Specs or Race or someone must have heard, because soon the horde of newsies were repeating the headline amongst themselves. Jack placed his hand on Crutchie’s shoulder, the riskiest move he dared with his boyfriend in public. Although the newsies were accepting, the public was not. Crutchie shrinked into Jack’s touch, jaw clenched to stop the tears. Never before had any of the newsies been personally impacted by a headline. Morris and Oscar just smirked as they took their place behind the stacks of papes. “We’ll be fine. Papes’ll sell good today. Meet back at the Lodging House immediately after selling.” Jack instructed, and the newsies nodded, naturally migrating towards their selling partners. Crutchie and Jack took their usual spot near a bank and barber, and true to Jack’s word the papes were gone by midday. Walking back to the Lodging House, Jack linked his pinkie with Crutchie, ignoring the odd glares from the few people who notice. When they arrived they saw all the other newsies were there, anxiously awaiting their leader’s arrival. When Jack entered he resumed his spot on the chair near the unlit fire, young newsies gathering at his feet and older ones leaning against the walls. “As you’se heard about the headline, we’se got one newsie slaughtered.” Jack began, and Crutchie watched as newsies exchanged nervous glances. “So I’se gonna place a few rules ‘round here, to keep you’se safe. Startin’ with, home before dark.” An audible groan was heard from Race. “Race, Spot’ll let you leave your little makeout sessions early. I bet he wants his make out partner alive!” Blink teased, smacking Race with his newsies cap. Race laughed along with them, but his proud smirk was undeniable. “And, we’se workin’ in groups now. Sellin’ may be harder but I’se sure you’se rather give up one meal a day rather than you’se life,” Jack finished, looking to Crutchie. Crutchie nodded his approval, and Jack sighed in relief. If Crutchie approved, how bad could it be? “Jack… who was it?” A small voice piped up from the back. Heads turned to the owner, a skinny boy with lanky limbs and badly cut dirty blonde hair. “A Brooklyn boy. Spot ain’t too happy ‘bout it. We’se meetin’ up tonight to… discuss.” Jack answered slowly, choosing his words carefully. “When?” Crutchie spoke for the first time since Jack implemented the new rule. “When what?” Jack asked, meeting his boyfriend’s eyes. “When will you meet with Spot?” “Sometime today.” Crutchie nodded, satisfied with Jack’s answer, deciding to ask him more about it later. “Race, Finch, Albert, Jojo, Henry, Crutchie, c’mere.” Jack called, a wave of his hand dismissing the crowd of eager young newsies. The five newsies followed Jack into the kitchen, where Jack closed the door and spoke in a hushed tone. “I’m meetin’ with Spot tonight-” Jack began, when Jojo cut him off. “No, you ain’t.” Jojo said, looking Jack in the eye. “Jojo, whaddya mean? I’se goin to meet with Spot.” “Jack, please.” Crutchie said softly, leaning more heavily on his crutch than usual. “I don’t want you’se gettin hurt.” “Crutch…” Jack started, seeing the pain in Crutchie’s green eyes. “At least let me come with you?” Jack shook his head immediately at Crutchie’s offer “If anything, you need to stay. The younger boys love you. I love you. I need you safe.” Jack reached out and put his hands on each of Crutchie’s shoulders. Crutchie hesitantly nodded. “Fine, but you gotta take someone with you. You ain’t goin alone.” Crutchie looked at Jack, biting his lip. Jack couldn’t say no. “Why don’t I? I’se been wantin to see Spotty,” Race offered. “No, no.” Jack shook his head. “This is official business. Spot’ll get distracted if you’se there, and don’t tell me he won’t.” Jack laughed softly. “I guess. Then who’ll go?” Race answered, somewhat disappointed. “Henry, come with me?” Jack asked, turning to Henry. Nervousness flashed through his brown eyes before he nodded. “Yeah, sure. When we leavin?” “Tonight, after dark. Spot’ll be expecting us.” Jack answered, one of his hands dropping to his side while the other slid down Crutchie arm, taking his free hand.


	3. -chapter three-

The hazy sun finally set over the city. Jack was sitting on the roof with Crutchie, their hands entwined. “Be careful, okay?” Crutchie looked up to Jack, squeezing his hand. “You know I will.” Jack answered, cupping Crutchie’s face in his hand. Leaning into the touch, Crutchie nodded. Kissing Crutchie softly, Jack stood, helping Crutchie up as well. Once both boys were steady on their feet, Crutchie stepped forward, hugging Jack tightly. Jack quickly returned the hug, his arms snaking around Crutchie’s waist. Crutchie allowed his crutch to fall, clattering on the concrete rooftop as Crutchie wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck, burying his face in Jack’s blue shirt. “Hey, this ain’t gonna be the last time you see me,” Jack whispered gently, leaning down to rest his face in the crook of Crutchie’s neck. “I know, but…” Crutchie let his sentence trail off, not wanting to finish it. There were so many what-ifs. “But nothing. You really think someone could overpower the great Jack Kelly?” Jack gently pulled away, leaning down to hand the crutch back to Crutchie as he flexed his muscles. Crutchie feigned shock. “Never!” He laughed, as Jack kissed his bicep. “That’s what I thought,” Jack laughed, bending to pick Crutchie up bridal-style. Once again, the wooden crutch collided with the cool concrete of the rooftop. “Jacky,” Crutchie laughed, arms wrapping around Jack’s neck once more. “Charlie,” Jack answered, using Crutchie’s real name. He was the only one allowed to do that. “Yes?” Crutchie smiled, dimples showing admits his freckles. “I love you.” “I love you more.” Once the younger newsies were settled in their bunks, Henry and Jack prepared to leave. Tucking a pocket knife into his pocket, Henry shrugged. “Who knows what’ll happen.” Henry muttered to himself. A small farewell crowd had gathered, even though the two would be gone half an hour at the maximum. “Be safe,” Davey called, the obvious parent of the newsies. “Yes, mother.” Jack teased, shoving Davey’s shoulder lightly. “You know we will be.” He said, in a more serious tone. “Bye, Jacky,” Crutchie said, leaning into Jack for a hug. Jack did the same without question. “Be back soon, Char.” Jack promised, using his pointer finger to make a cross motion over his heart. That was when Crutchie knew he was serious. The cross of the heart was their thing; they did that when they really meant something. Crutchie nodded, standing tip-toe to press a soft kiss to Jack’s cheek. Smiling, Jack took Crutchie’s hand. “Love you,” he said, walking backwards. Jack’s hand slowly pulled away from Crutchie’s until only their fingertips touched. “Love you more.” Crutchie answered softly, his hand dropping to his side as Jack and Henry disappeared into the streets of New York City. “They’ll be fine,” Specs told Crutchie reassuringly. “Now, can you help me spell my name?” Crutchie nodded, leading Specs to the kitchen to use the table, where they worked until Specs could spell his full name, nickname as well. “Good job,” Crutchie congratulated as Specs finished writing his name. “You got it!” “Thank you so much, Crutch.” Specs beamed, folding the old pape and tucking it into his pocket. “It’s kinda late. We should go to bed now.” “Nah, I’se gonna wait for Jack and Henry,” Crutchie smiled tiredly, propping his head up in his hands. “Okay, but you’se still gotta sell tomorrow.” Specs waved goodnight and headed up the stairs to the shared bedroom. Sighing, Crutchie stood, hobbling over to the worn couch in the middle of the room. He curled his legs under himself and leaned against the arm of the couch, fighting heavy eyelids and the temptation of sleep. “Just five minutes,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. Two hours later, Crutchie was startled awake by the Lodging House door slamming open. Yelling, Crutchie jumped up, immediately falling back down due to his leg. Taking a moment to just breathe, Crutchie then grabbed his crutch and stood, looking up to the doorway. Jack’s hair was a mess, obviously in a fight. Bruises peppered his face and there was evidence of a bloody nose. Worst of all, his hands were covered in blood. “Jack!” Crutchie screamed, running over as fast as he could. “Don’t touch me!” Jack yelled, jumping back. He was clearly startled that anyone was awake. “I don’t want blood on you’se,” he said, more quietly. “Finch! Albert! Elmer! Specs!” Crutchie yelled, and was met with distant groaning. “Jack is back!” A thunder of footsteps came, and soon Finch appeared at the stairs. He stopped completely when he saw Jack. “Elm, stay with the kids,” he said, eyes wide and not leaving Jack. Elmer knew better than to argue, and turned, heading back upstairs to the younger boys’ room. Finch, Albert, Specs, Mush, and Blink made their way to Jack and Crutchie, their movements tentative and slow. “Where’s Henry?” Mush whispered, and Jack just stared ahead, shaking his head slowly. “I couldn’t save him.” Jack croaked, tears springing up into his eyes. Mush turned to Blink, who wrapped a protective arm around him. “Who was it?” Albert asked, anger coming before grief. Jack didn’t answer. “Jack. Who was it?” Albert repeated. “Too dark.” Jack mumbled, robotic movements taking him to the bathroom. He ran water over his hands and wrist, seemingly entranced by the red tainted water swirling around the sink and disappearing down the drain. “Did you see it happen?” Specs asked, raising a hand and resting it on Jack’s shoulder. Jack nodded. “How did Henry…?” Specs couldn’t bring himself to form the word ‘die’. “Knife.” Jack’s answered, words short, and forced. “Didn’t he have his own?” Blink asked, referring to Henry’s knife. “That’s how he died.” Jack whispered, drying his hands. “Killed by his own knife.” Crutchie repeated, leaning heavily on his crutch and the wall. “Everyone in bed.” Jack said, his voice stronger. “We’se can’t sleep after this,” Finch argued, but one look from Jack had everyone starting up the stairs. “Penthouse, Jacky?” Crutchie asked, taking a small step forward. Jack just nodded. Taking his boyfriend’s hand, Jack allowed himself to be led up the stairs and through the bedroom, where large eyes followed the couple to the window. Climbing out the window, Jack helped Crutchie up the stairs and situated on the mattresses. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Crutchie asked, looking up to Jack’s bruises jaw. “No.” Jack whispered. “I wanna sleep. And be with you.” Crutchie nodded, cuddling closer to Jack. Jack’s arms wrapped around Crutchie, seemingly pulling him closer. Listening to Jack’s breathing, Crutchie only allowed himself to close his eyes and sleep when Jack’s breaths became slow and relaxed.


	4. -chapter four-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you like the story so far please leave a comment or a kudos :)

The headline the next day was about Henry, no doubt. ‘Newsie Stabbed To Death’, Crutchie had had to read aloud to the newsies.   
“Read more,” Specs pushed, and with a gulp Crutchie nodded.   
“ ‘The Manhattan Newsie, identified by nuns,’ ” All the newsies were too grief stricken to laugh at the fact that nuns could recognize Henry. “ ‘Was found dead by local policemen this morning, the sixth of November.’ ” Crutchie shoved the pape into his bag. “That’s all.” Of course, that wasn’t all. Skimming ahead, Crutchie had seen gruesome details about doctor's autopsy, and police estimations about the fight. The newsies nodded solemnly and split up into their groups, four in each. Albert, Race, Jack, and Crutchie started down the road.   
“Henry selled there,” Albert whispered, pointing to a lamppost in front of the library.   
“I sold with him once.” Crutchie said in response. Jack adjusted his bag to hide his hand and Crutchie’s, and linked their pinkies. Crutchie looked at Jack, smiling softly. Even though he smiled, his eyes were still filled with sorrow.   
Papes sold quickly that day, due to the headline and the fact that buyers must have seen the strained smiles and blood-shot eyes from crying. By midday, all papes were gone.   
“What now?” Albert asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.   
“I’m gonna go see Spot.” Race answered, taking off down the street and disappearing around a corner.   
“Jacobi’s?” Jack suggested, and when Albert and Crutchie has nodded, Jack led them down the road, stepping out of the way of trolleys, house drawn carriages, and even the occasional automobile before they made it to the small building between two large buildings. Jacobi’s was easily overlooked, with such a small storefront, but was the coziest spot in Manhattan. It was the usual newsie hangout, with teenage boys flocking there after the papes were sold. Since it was only midday though, Albert, Jack, and Crutchie were the only ones there. They took their spot at a booth, Mr. Jacobi bringing Jack and Crutchie water, with Albert spoiling himself and ordered a seltzer for two cents.   
“What now?” Albert asked once more, evidently talking about the current situation. Someone in Manhattan was targeting newsies, and succeeding. Two were dead.   
“What was the other boy’s name?” Crutchie finally asked, looking at Jack.   
“Leaf. One of Spot’s new boys. Say he shakes, well, shook like a leaf all the time.” Jack huffed out something supposed to be laughter, though nothing about the situation was funny.   
“Did… were Henry and Leaf alike in any way?” Albert inquired even more.   
“They’se both newsies.” Jack said, stating the obvious.   
“Shocker.” Albert responded, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of the bubbly water. Immediately his nose crinkled up, squeezing his eyes shut. Crutchie and Jack watched in amusement as Albert forced himself to swallow the seltzer and push the glass away from himself, leaning back against the booth.   
“Agh!” Albert yelled, as soon as he was able to speak.   
“So, Al. How’s that seltzer?” Crutchie asked, raising an eyebrow and taking an easy sip from his own water. Running a hand through his red hair, Albert shot Crutchie a warning look.   
“Watch it, Crutch. Seltzer’s disgusting. It’ll getcha,” to make his point, Albert made Crutchie take a sip.   
“Not terrible,” Crutchie shrugged, sliding the glass across the tabletop to Jack. Jack stuck his tongue the water, then took a full sip. In a matter of seconds, half the glass was gone.   
“That’s disgusting.” Albert said, eyes wide with shock. Jack shrugged, laughing a little.   
“Here, boys.” A new voice said, and the three newsies looked up to see Mr. Jacobi putting three plates down on the table.   
“Oh, we ain’t order anythin’,” Jack said, eyeing the food hungrily.   
“It’s on the house. I watched Henry grow up with the nuns, least I can do is take care of his friends.” With a sad smile, he turned from the group.   
“Oh…” Crutchie said softly, staring at the sandwich in front of him.   
“Pastrami on rye with a sour pickle.” Albert observed, taking a bite. “Henry’s favorite.”   
The rest of the meal was silent.


	5. -chapter five-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you wanna comment/kudos go ahead xD

Much sooner than wanted, it was four o’clock. Four was Jack’s decided curfew, which he had discussed with the boys that morning. Thankfully, Jacobi’s was only a few buildings down from the Lodging House, and the extra food made the walk enjoyable. For the first time in months, Crutchie’s stomach didn’t ache and growl per usual. Once Jack had counted heads and saw everyone was present, he turned to Crutchie tiredly.                                                                                                                                                                      “I’m gonna head up to the penthouse. Take your time, I’se just tired.” Jack pecked Crutchie on the cheek and turned to head up the stairs. Crutchie nodded, his green eyes following Jack as he tiredly climbed the rickety wooden staircase.                                        “Crutch, you okay?” Jojo asked, putting his hand on Crutchie’s shoulder gently as to not knock him off balance.                                  “Are any of us okay?” Crutchie answered with own question, smiling wearily. Jojo shrugged, turning to play cards with Albert and Race. Crutchie ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair, easing himself onto the same worn couch he was sleeping on when Jack burst into the Lodging House, hands splattered with Henry’s blood. Shaking his head of the image, Crutchie exhaled heavily and leaned back, head tipped to lean against the wall. His moment of peace was short-lived, as he jerked awake when Romeo sat next to him.                    “Hey, calm down, Crutch,” Romeo laughed.                                                                                                                                       “Sorry, Rome, guess I’m a bit jumpy.” Crutchie laughed, although his heart wasn’t in it. Crutchie decided he had to pretend everything was okay for the younger newsies, and seeing how Romeo was only thirteen, he qualified as one of the younger boys.                           “Is it because of Henry and that Brooklyn boy?” Romeo asked, fiddling with the strap of his suspenders.                                          “Yeah.” Crutchie answered shortly. Romeo seemed to be bored of the conversation, because without answering he stood and crossed the room to Race, Albert, and Jojo. Allowing himself to relax again, Crutchie closed his eyes. Just for a moment, he told himself.     “Crutchie? Crutchie!” About half an hour after Crutchie initially closed his eyes, he was forcefully awoken by Davey, shaking his shoulders.                                                                                                                                                                                        “Dave… what?” Crutchie mumbled, smacking Davey’s hand away.                                                                                                      “Where’s Romeo?” Davey’s dark eyes were wide and frantic.                                                                                                            “Dunno… out with his girl? Y’know he loves her,” Crutchie answered, groggily rubbing his eyes.                                                          “No, no, he woulda been back by now. He left two hours ago!” Davey’s panicked voice cut through the stunned silence of the living room.                                                                                                                                                                                               “Maybe things got a little...heated?” Jojo suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.                                                                                        “Better not have, the kid’s thirteen!” Davey yelled, wringing his hands together.                                                                                “We’se gonna see him at the circulation gate tomorrow. When Finch was seein’ that girl, he’d be gone all night.” Albert pointed out, earning a nasty glare from Finch.                                                                                                                                                      “That’s more than you could say.” Finch shot back, and Albert feigned hurt.                                                                                             “I guess…” Davey whispered, then shook his head. “Anyway, Les and I should get going. The folks’ll be waiting.” Davey concluded, starting up the stairs to where the younger boys were in a heated game of cards. In a few minutes, Davey was headed out the door, Les holding his hand.                                                                                                                                                                                   “Be careful,” Crutchie said, closing and locking the Lodging House door behind them. “Up to bed, boys.” Crutchie yawned, flicking his hand towards the stairs.                                                                                                                                                                    “Gonna meet Jack up on the rooftop?” Race asked, removing the cigar from his lips as he walked up the stairs next to Crutchie, his hand out discreetly to catch Crutchie should he fall. It was obvious, with the current events, Crutchie’s leg has been suffering.                        “Maybe. He ain’t been himself. He need a little to himself, I think.” Crutchie told Race, furrowing his brow. Jack had never been this distant.                                                                                                                                                                                                “Give ‘im a few days, he’ll be back once this whole thing is over.” Race assured Crutchie, who smiled gratefully.                                    “Yeah… i guess.” Crutchie nodded, smiling gratefully as they reached the landing. “I’se gonna sleep with the boys tonight,” he acted as if the boys were lucky to have his presence, strutting as smoothly as he could into the bedroom with six bunks pushed against the wall. He happily took his bunk, leaning his crutch against the wall and swinging his legs up, pulling the blanket over himself. In a matter of minutes the dark room was filled with teenage snores, but Crutchie was not among them. Bright, green eyes stared up at the wooden beams above him, sagging slightly where Race had curled up under his blanket. A thin ribbon of silver moonlight slipped in through the curtain, lighting up Crutchie’s crutch on the wall. Letting his mind wander, Crutchie thought the moonlight on his crutches represented his life. People only ever saw his crutch, when there was so much more to him. He had thought of something more profound, at least he thought so in the morning, but it was forgotten in the hazy mist that came just before sleep.             

  _Clang! Clang! Clang!_ The morning bell rang throughout the streets of New York, and was met with numerous groans and muffled yells. “How’s about we take the day off?” Race suggested, leaning on his elbows and rubbing his eye with one hand.                               “You’se know you ain’t doin’ that,” Crutchie grinned, using his crutch to stand. “Youse need the money to gamble away.”            “Crutch’s right, Racer!” Albert yelled from his bunks newsie cap dangling from his fingertips as he lazily teased Elmer right below him. “Hey!” Race laughed, jumping down from bunk, landing easily on his feet.                                                                                  “Whatever, hit the streets,” Specs laughed, smacking Race with his own cap.                                                                                         The boys all crowded around the circulation gate, peering through the iron bars to catch a glimpse of the headline. Each and every newsie held their breath, hoping with all of their being that another of their brothers hadn’t been slaughtered. Just as Morris began writing the headline, the padding of worn leather boots on cobblestone distracted the newsies. Turning, they saw a Brooklyn boy heaving, out of breath.                                                                                                                                                                    “Laces?” Race spoke up, stepping out of the crowd of newsies.                                                                                                        “Race… Race….” the boy, Laces, said between breaths.                                                                                                                    “What’s a matter?” Race asked, snagging the cigar from his lips.                                                                                                          “The Manhattan boy, the little one,” Laces began, a somewhat thorough grasp on his breathing now.                                                “Les?” Crutchie asked for clarification, stepping up next to Race.                                                                                                        “Think so, he had a older brother.” Laces’ eyes darted between Crutchie and Race.                                                                             “Les.” Crutchie confirmed.                                                                                                                                                                  “Well, he’s d-dead.” He stuttered, leaning down to retie his red shoelaces.                                                                                          “He’s what?!” Romeo yelled, shoving between Race and Crutchie, eyes wide and frantic. When Davey and Les first joined the newsies Romeo gladly took the younger boy under his wing, proud to mentor a newsie as Jack had mentored him. The two had become inseparable, selling together and even sharing a bunk when Les stayed with the boys overnight. Crutchie may even go as far as to call them best friends.                                                                                                                                                                                      “Dead.” Laces repeated. “We found ‘im and ‘is brother on the street. The older one’s in the hospital, Les was dead before we found ‘em.” “They was in Brooklyn?” Race asked, scratching his head.                                                                                                                  “Yeah, but not too far in.”                                                                                                                                                                     “The Jacobs’ live in Manhattan. Why’re Les and Davey in Brooklyn?” Crutchie muttered, eyes zoning in on the dents in the worn cobblestone.                                                                                                                                                                                              “Spot wants me to talk ta Jack. Oh, and Spot wants to see ya, Race.”                                                                                                    “Where is Jack?” Newsies mumbled to each other, and Crutchie absently watched as Elmer wrapped his arms comfortingly around Romeo, and began leading him back in the direction of the Lodging House.                                                                                                 “How’s the headline? Romeo sick?” An oddly bright voice asked, and Crutchie looked up to Jack swinging into Newsies Square.          “Les is dead. Davey’s in the hospital.” Race spat, the words like venom on his tongue. A look of horror passed through Jack’s face. “Davey’s in the hospital?” Jack repeated, voice far off. Crutchie nodded solemnly. As if on instinct, Jack stepped forward and linked his pinkie in Crutchie’s.                                                                                                                                                                          “How’d it happen?” Jack asked Laces, who seemed as if he were itching to run away.                                                                      “Looked like Les’ neck was cut real deal. Older boy was covered in blood, and his neck was cut, but pretty shallow.”                          “Couldn’t finish the job,” Jack muttered, eyes infuriatingly looking around at the Newsies.                                                                    “Sell ya papes. Hurry. Be back by dark.” Jack commanded, nodding his thanks to Laces before both Race and Laces took off towards Brooklyn.                                                                                                                                                                                                  “Regular spot?” Crutchie asked, and Jack nodded his approval. The headline was, to nobody’s surprise, an article about a ‘two brother newsies slaughtered on the job’.                                                                                                                                                      “Group of newsies slaughtered on the job!” Crutchie called out, lump sticking in his throat and the top of the mouth. In all his years, he never imagined exaggerating headlines written about his closest friends.                                                                                     “Morning pape, ma’am, group of newsies slaughtered on the job!” Crutchie hobbled next to an older woman, who rolled her eyes, taking the paper and dropping a few coins into Crutchie’s grime-covered hand.                                                                                   “My last pape.” Crutchie said softly, shoving the coins into his pocket and going next to Jack.                                                            “Mine too. Lunch at Jacobi’s? Maybe we’se can get lucky again to get free food.” Jack was only half joking.                                          “Yeah, sure.” Crutchie nodded, and the pair made their way to Jacobi’s Deli. The bell rung as Jack pushed the door open and held it for Crutchie, and Mr. Jacobi greeted then from behind the counter.                                                                                                            “On the house.” The man explained, handing Jack two plates. Nodding in thanks, Jack followed Crutchie to their usual booth.      “Pastrami on rye with a sour pickle.” Crutchie whispered, casting his eye downward as he took another bite of the sandwich.          “Yeah.” Jack nodded, eyeing his wearily before taking a bite. Within a few minutes, both sandwiches were gone.                                      “One murder for each day.” Crutchie mumbled, thinking out loud like he sometimes did.                                                                    “Who will it be today?” Crutchie’s green eyes met Jack’s dark brown ones.                                                                                     “Nobody, if I’se can help it.” Jack slipped his hand under the table, resting it on Crutchie’s bad leg and gently massaging it.        “Thanks, Jacky. It’s been hurtin’.” Crutchie said softly.                                                                                                                              “I know.” Jack answered, taking a sip of his water.                                                                                                                              “Let’s get back to the Lodging House,” Suggested Crutchie, grabbing his crutch to stand.                                                                “Yeah.” Jack nodded, promptly following Crutchie.                                                                                                                              “Thanks, Mr. Jacobi.” The two boys called in unison, the door bell jingling behind them.                                                                             “I’se gonna drop you off at the Lodging House, then I’se gonna go for a walk.” Jack told Crutchie, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Jacky, what happened to the buddy system?” Crutchie asked, shooting Jack an appointed glare.                                                              “You’se need to rest. You’se leg is botherin’ you, and don’t say it ain’t.”                                                                                                “I’ll gladly take a few minutes of extra pain than a lifetime without my Jacky.”                                                                                   “Char. Please. You’se need your rest.” Jack pulled Crutchie into the Lodging House, shutting the door behind them and softly kissing Crutchie’s lips. “Please,” Jack whispered, fingers trailing Crutchie’s jaw.                                                                                            “Fine.” Crutchie gave in, raising his hand to hold a fistful of Jack’s signature blue shirt. “But you’se better be home by dark.” A smile played on his features.                                                                                                                                                                            “Of course.” Jack answered, leaning in for one last kiss before pulling away and walking down the street, whistling a merry tune.                          Crutchie sat on the rooftop, legs dangling over the edge. The sun was just beginning to set as he laid back, eyes squinting against the cotton candy skies. Sighing, he realized he missed Jack. He should’ve been back by then. What if he got hurt? Oh, God, what if he was murdered? With frantic eyes, Crutchie stood as fast as he could, reaching for his crutch. In record timing, he was down the iron ladder and on the first floor of the Lodging House, already headed out the door. The sharp breeze stung his cheek as his fingers started to numb. Crutchie had been out on the streets of Manhattan for at least an hour. The sun had long gone down and the only thing lighting the streets for Crutchie to navigate was the full moon and stars. Leaning against the brick wall of a bakery, Crutchie leaned down to massage his cramped leg.                                                                                                                                                      “Jack… Jack…” He mumbled, reminding himself as to why he was out at night with a newsie murderer on the loose. Brushing hair out of his eye Crutchie straightened, deciding Jack was probably already at the Lodging House, in a frantic search for him. Shaking his head, Crutchie started the walk back to the Lodging House. He wasn’t even a few steps when a blood-curdling scream slit through the crisp autumn air, Crutchie immediately seizing up and looking around. He was suddenly aware of the dark alleyways, the shadows he could not see past. Danger could be anywhere around him, and there he was, standing in the middle of an abandoned road, like a sitting duck. Clutching his crutch, Crutchie made his way to the sidewalk and pressed himself against the rough bricks, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping the action would somehow drain him of the fear lurking around him like a thick cloud. _Stop lying around, get to the lodging house,_ one voice yelled at Crutchie. _Go help your brother! He needs you!_ Another screamed, much louder. Crutchie agreed with the second. Nobody else would be insane enough to be out on the streets, he was that poor newsie’s only hope. With a shaky breath, Crutchie turned and headed towards the terrible sound. It had only been a few seconds. Maybe there was still hope for the newsie in trouble. Taking off as fast he could with the crutch, Crutchie was wishing the newsie in question made some sort of noise, movement- anything to help Crutchie find them. He was both thankful and thoroughly disturbed when another pained howl echoed off a nearby alleyway. Taking a deep breath and preparing himself for a fight, Crutchie turned into the alleyway. However, nothing could ever prepare him for what he saw in the alleyway.


	6. -chapter six-

Crutchie stumbled backwards, tripping over his crutch. Stunned, he couldn’t even process the pain shooting through his spine. He could only watch, wide eyes as Jack- his Jack- stood over a limp newsie. A blood stained knife was clutched in one of Jack’s equally blood stained arm. Words were foreign to Crutchie in the moment, unable to form any sort of verbal communication as he watched his boyfriend look down at his work. Finally Crutchie just opened his mouth and screamed. Jack whipped around, knife raised. He didn’t process who it was before him. He just knew he could leave no evidence. In a few strong strides he towered over Crutchie, who still lay sprawled on the street. Grabbing Crutchie’s shirt collar, Jack picked him up and pulled him into the alleway, shoving him against the brick wall.  
“Jack!” Crutchie cried, but he was too late. Jack had already raised the knife, eyes distant. “This isn’t you, Jacky,” Crutchie whispered, a single tear falling down his freckled face. A strangled cry escaped Crutchie’s lips as he hunched over after Jack retracted the knife.   
“Jacky…” Crutchie gasped, reaching up to grasp Jack’s shirt. Jack came back to life.  
“Crutchie? Crutchie! Oh god, Crutch!” Jack whispered, sinking to the ground, cradling Crutchie.  
“Why’d you do it?” Crutchie asked, wincing in pain.  
“I had too.” Jack wiped away his own tear, then wiped away one of Crutchie’s.  
“But why? You killed four people.” Crutchie’s voice was distant. His eyes couldn’t focus on Jack.   
“They said they'd hurt you.” Jack whispered, running his thumb across Crutchie’s dirt-stained face. He couldn’t unsee the blood on his hand, or Crutchie’s blood soaked shirt.   
“Well, how’d that work out?” Crutchie asked, a soft smile playing on his features.   
“Not very well.” Jack said, a half hearted chuckle escaping. The light from Crutchie’s eyes was quickly fading.  
“Jacky.” Crutchie made eye contact with Jack, before his eyes started wandering again.  
“Yeah, Charlie?”  
“Are you sorry?” Crutchie raised his arm, painstakingly slow, to rest on Jack’s cheek.  
“Yes. Every minute, yes. I shoulda never done it.”   
“Do you promise?” Crutchie was fading, and fast. Too choked up with tears, Jack just nodded, raising his free hand to draw a cross over his heart.  
“Yeah. I promise.” Jack whispered, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on Crutchie’s forehead.  
“Jack?” Crutchie’s voice was barely a whisper. They both knew he was running out of time. “You gotta tell someone.”   
“Charlie,” Jack breathed, eyes widening. “I can’t turn myself in.”  
“Then go.”  
“Go where? The city ain’t big enough to hide in forever,”   
“To where you promised to bring me.” Crutchie smiled, although with his fading energy it was more of just his lips turning upwards.   
“Santa Fe ain’t gonna be the same without you’se,” Jack begged, tightening his grip around Crutchie.   
“Don’t matter. You gotta.” Casting one last loving glance at Jack, Crutchie let his hand fall from his cheek and fall onto the cobblestone of the alley. “I love you.” With that last statement, Crutchie’s eyes closed, hiding from Jack the brilliant green eyes that seemed to lift any conversation. The eyes that helped him reason, the eyes that helped him live and lead the Manhattan newsies. The eyes that were now gone from his life, forever.   
“Charlie?” Jack gently laid Crutchie on the ground, ignoring the voice in his head that told him it didn’t matter, Crutchie couldn’t feel anymore. “Come back to me, Charlie. Come back to me!” Jack started as a whisper, eventually yelling. Thoughts raced through his mind, and he stood, reaching out to the brick wall to steady himself. Jack’s head spun. He couldn’t focus. All he could see was Crutchie’s limp body in the alleyway, head lolled to the side, his shirt soaked through with blood, his crutch abandoned near the entryway of the alleyway.  
You did this! Voices screamed at him. You killed him, the only person who cared for you! Tears blurred Jack’s vision as he stumbled backwards, away from Crutchie, away from the voices. His foot caught on something and he was sent flying backwards, lying on the cold ground. Looking up he saw Specs. No, he saw the body of Specs.   
Everything came down on him  
The morning when he found the first note, demanding his presence with the Delancey brothers. The threats made against Crutchie.  
The slip of paper with the Brooklyn boy’s name on it.  
The second with Henry’s, the third with Specs.  
The first kill, then the second.   
The single promise that he was doing this for Crutchie, that he was keeping him safe from the Delanceys.   
The realization of what he’d done.   
The realization that he’d killed Crutchie.  
Everything stopped.   
Jack walked over to where he dropped his knife, picked it up, then laid down next to Crutchie, sliding his own hand into Crutchie’s cold one. Closing his eyes, Jack prepared himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo the next chapter is gonna be so super short, like its literally two lines so,,,, sorry about that


	7. -chapter seven-

The headline the next day sold well.

_‘Newsie Leader Jack Kelly and Two Others Found Dead In Manhattan Alley.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have any requests you want me to write just comment them and ill start working on them asap :)


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